


Merry Berry Christmas

by jolybird



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolybird/pseuds/jolybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After twenty four years, it was about time Feuilly got a Christmas miracle. </p>
<p>or;; the someone somewhere said "what if feuilly was valjean's nephew" and I couldn't get the thought out of my head AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Berry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where I read the idea that Feuilly is Valjean's nephew but damn I'm so here for it. 
> 
> Also, yeah, the title is totally a bath and body works scent.

Enjolras scowled as he pulled a box of bubble bath out from under the counter and set about opening it in the middle of the packed shop. Someone bumped into him and picked up the box to set it on the counter above his head. Enjolras was set to give them a piece of his mind when he realized it was just Feuilly, wearing the same apron as him.

“Don’t unpack on the ground, you’ll be trampled.” Feuilly sighed, pulling another box out and setting it next to the bubble bath. “Courfeyrac sounded seriously worried before, although he then dove into his plan to coerce you into marriage and then fake his death so you can get an inheritance so it can’t be that serious?”

“I actually think he’s sort of relieved it finally happened. This has been hanging over us for a while and it _is_ sort of nice. I've known for years that it was only a matter of time before they disowned me but...did it have to be during all this?" he gestured to the mall around them fill to the brim with overburdened shoppers.

Feuilly shrugged, “At least you were able to get a job. Imagine if it had been during the beginning of summer holidays, when there are hordes of students looking for summer jobs.”

“Maybe it would have been nice having to rely on Courfeyrac for a while. He owes me so much money.”

Feuilly laughed, knowing perfectly well that Enjolras wouldn’t have been able to stand having to mooch off his friends and he didn’t care how much money Courfeyrac ‘owed’ him, he’d never ask for it back. “This place isn’t that bad, there aren’t a million different products and you don’t have to worry about hangers.” There had been an incident once, Enjolras and Joly had gone out clothes shopping and Enjolras, trying to pull a shirt off of an too-crowded rack, had accidentally knocked the entire thing over. Joly still loved to tell the story whenever someone commented on either Enjolras’ strength or temper.

“They _test on animals_ though.” Enjolras said through gritted teeth and Feuilly elbowed him sharply because he hadn’t exactly said it quietly. Nearby, a woman paused in taking a bottle of shower gel off the shelf. She glanced to the pair of them for a moment and then weighed the bottle in her hand. Her lips twisted into a frown and she put the bottle back before turning and leaving the store. Enjolras stood up straighter, his chest swelling with pride as he watched the woman disappear into the crowd.

Feuilly turned away, “I’ll tell Courfeyrac to start picking things for the registry.”

“Excuse me?”

“Joly was right. You’re totally going to get fired before Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Enjolras deadpanned, “We get off in _four hours_.”

“Excuse me?" A woman interrupted the pair, looking simultaneously disinterested and confused, "I’m looking for my husband, do you have anything for men?”

Enjolras’ face immediately went tired and blank, “What scent does he like.”

Feuilly grabbed Enjolras’ shoulders and steered him back towards the shelves they were in the middle of restocking. “I got this, you finish up here.”

Enjolras entertained himself for the rest of his shift with coming up with different ways to stop animal cruelty (starting at petitions and ending up at hacking into the BBC with broadcasting images of laboratories throughout the world). Between that and a particularly confused customer who didn’t seem to quite understand why she couldn’t use coupons that had expired a decade ago, the rest of their shift flew by.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras said in surprise as he rounded a display and nearly walked into him, Bossuet and Cosette. “Here to do some last minute Christmas shopping? And I do mean last minute we’re closed in five minutes.”

“I’m best friends with a literal elf. My shopping was done months ago. Plus I don’t think I’ve ever bought a Christmas present from a mall?” Grantaire, tilting his head slightly as if that'd aide him in remembering. 

“What, really?”

“Mum works craft fairs. I got shit while I was there.” Grantaire shrugged and from the corner of his eye, Enjolras noticed Bossuet squirt a sample onto his hand.

“Bossuet, that’s soap not hand lotion.”

“Why do you have samples of soap away from the sink.” He swore as Cosette lead him over to the sink to wash his hands.

“We were in the area and I don’t think either of you have been to my Papa’s house have you?” Cosette asked as she and Bossuet washed and rewashed their hands, trying out all the samples that lined the sink.

Enjolras shook his head, Feuilly was checking the last costumer out and they were getting glared at by one of their coworkers. As the last customer walked out, Feuilly leaned on the counter, “We’ve got to close so if you could leave that would be great?”

Grantaire and Bossuet both put their hands on their chests, wounded and Cosette and Feuilly’s laughed mirrored one another. It struck Enjolras that they all spent way too much time together.

“We’ll meet you at your car! We got the spot adjacent you. You can follow us to Papa’s for dinner.” Cosette waved before taking both Grantaire and Bossuet’s arms and all but skipping out of the store.

 

 *

 

Fifteen minutes later Feuilly and Enjolras found the trio blasting Christmas music. In Enjolras’ car.

Feuilly couldn’t contain his laughter as Enjolras sputtered, searched his pockets for his keys and then went to pound on the window, causing both Bossuet and Cosette to emit high pitched screams. Enjolras waved his keys in the air, shouting about how Christmas or not he was going to murder them all for breaking into his car. After clarifying that Courfeyrac had given Grantaire an emergency copy of Enjolras’ car keys and Enjolras forcefully removed two out of three of them (Cosette had kept a death grip on the back door and after a brief struggle Enjolras left her to be their back seat navigator), the two cars set out for Cosette’s father’s house.

Their arrival was met with fanfare, Marius, because entertaining their friends at M. Fauchelevent’s house wasn’t high on his list of favorite things, literally swept Cosette off her feet in an overzealous hug and apparently Jehan was _beyond famished_. After saying a quick hello to everyone, Cosette grabbed Feuilly and Enjolras, the only people to not have ever met her father, and dragged them over to where he was standing by the table, watching them all with an amused smile.

“Papa, this is Marcel Enjolras and Thierry Feuilly.”

“Marcel.” Grantaire practically giggled and Enjolras glared around the room, trying to find him in a way that was so violent, it startled a laugh out of Combeferre and Bossuet both. Feuilly glanced to them before offering Cosette’s father his hand and looking to him. M. Fauchelevent only stared back and he shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” He forced a smile onto his face as he lowered his hand and steadily ignored Cosette at his side. He didn’t know what he had done, and he didn’t want to upset his friend by having her father not like him. Had someone said something? Was it the plaid?

After a moment more of the intense staring, M. Fauchelevent asked, his voice slightly strained, “Your name’s Thierry Feuilly?” 

“Um—yes?” he glanced to Cosette but she only shook her head quickly to let him know she didn’t know what was up with her father before she turned towards him.

“Papa,” she began, reaching out to take her father’s hand.

“And your parents.” He continued sharply, ignoring her.

Feuilly shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I grew up in about twenty different foster homes.”

“Do you know where you’re from?”

“Sir?” Feuilly asked, Enjolras put a hand on his shoulder in support but didn’t speak. Around them, everyone else had fallen silent to watch the bizarre interrogation. 

“Papa, what’s wrong? What’s with all the questions?”

“I’m sorry.” He said kindly, although his face was still stony, “Do you know where the first foster home was? Where you’re from? What area? It’s important.”

“La Courtine.” Feuilly said after a moment, speaking the name like it was a piece of him. Which of course it it was: it was the only link he had to his family, to where he had come from. 

M. Fauchelevent sunk into a seat and Courfeyrac and Cosette both rushed to his side in a wave of concern. He all but ignored the both of them to turn to Marius, “In the closet in my bedroom there’s a box on the top shelf. Inside that box there’s a little jewelry box, bring that little box out—and only that.” Marius swallowed nervously but left the room without protest. M. Fauchelevent shut his eyes and sighed.

“Papa, are you alright? What’s going on?”

He gave a great sigh and then looked past Cosette to Feuilly, who shifted under the emotion in his eyes. “When I was fourteen my parents were killed in a car accident. My older sister—who had just tuned eighteen raised me. We weren’t rich but we weren’t starving. Two years later she fell in love and got married. She found out she was pregnant three months before we found out her husband had cancer. He died a few weeks after their son’s birth. The medical bills ruined us, even with her working two jobs and I three and—my brother in law worked until he was too ill to stand. I was arrested for shoplifting formula for my nephew and I was in such a panic for them I tried to escape six times. By the time I finally got out my sister was dead. Pneumonia. There was no sign of my nephew.”

At this Grantaire blurted out, _holy shit_ , and Feuilly gripped Enjolras’ arm, his mind a numb _why is he telling me this_. 

“I searched everywhere for him but—I thought he was dead. I thought he had been lost—he—my nephew—he was named after his father. He looked just like my sister.”

Marius returned as if on que, pale, but he handed the box over and M. Fauchelevent opened it to reveal a stack of photos. He pushed aside the table setting to place a photo down. Everyone instantly scrambled to crowd around them.“My sister—Sylvie.” he said, pointing to a woman and Jehan drew in a sharp breath. Feuilly looked at the woman in the photo and a high pitched buzzing sounded in his ears. “And her husband—Thierry Feuilly. Here’s my nephew—“

“That’s you.” Musichetta whispered, looking over at Feuilly. Feuilly stared at the tiny child wrapped in blankets in his mother's arms. He was asleep. Content. 

The dining room was suddenly very small. There was no way--

“I’m sorry. I haven’t so much as looked at a picture of her in _years_. I was half convinced I was forgetting what she looked like but you have her eyes and her nose.” M. Fauchelevent's voice was little more than a shaky grumble but it was so _sure_ , so _positive_.

“You’re my Uncle? These are my parents? My— _parents_?” He looked up sharply and then put the picture down, his hands shaking. Combeferre and Joly, who were both closest to him now, reached out to steady him. “But—nobody knew. Nobody knew anything when I asked them. I wrote to and called so many of my old foster homes. There were no records. No birth certificate. I—of course I googled myself and—oh god, the name must have come up but—there were no pictures—there was no mention of a son.” He looked up, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide in desperation.

His _Uncle_ put his hand over Feuilly's, gentle, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what Sylvie went through. I don’t know what you went through. But here you are—after so long…I stopped looking.”

Feuilly looked to M. Fauchelevent, cheeks tinted pink, still breathing raggedly. He looked guilty but there was absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. Feuilly didn't blame him for giving up, after a while _he_ had given up on ever finding his family. It hurt too much to have the possibility hanging over his head, to always think, _this phone call could be them_ , and then have it be a telemarketer. It hurt and Feuilly understood having to give up and mourn because it was the only way to survive. 

Cosette laughed suddenly, squeezed her way over to him and threw her arms around him. “Welcome home.” Feuilly touched her arm and then his expression crumpled and he started crying. Cosette gasped, pulling him closer so he could hide his face in her shoulder.

Enjolras, Joly and Bossuet began whispering furiously next to them.

Feuilly pulled away from Cosette, glanced in his friends’ direction and then sharply away again. “Don’t even look at me, fuckface.”

“Fuck off.” Bahorel was giving a valiant effort to contain himself but the tear-tracks on his cheeks betrayed him.

“You’re a Christmas cliché.” Grantaire informed him, matter-of-factly and Enjolras sent him a glare that Grantaire shrugged off and Enjolras smiled softly to himself.

“Dinner’s gone cold.” Jehan announced sadly.

Feuilly picked up the picture and thrust it in his direction, “These are _my parents_.” He laughed, a little wildly. Jehan took the photo and practically cooed over it, looking from the baby to his friend in front of him.

“Yo your Dad’s hot.” Courfeyrac helpfully supplied, sliding over to look at the photo with Jehan. “Do you have more pictures?”

M. Fauchelevent laughed, “I—yeah actually I do. Not a lot but a couple.”

Feuilly roughly sat down and Combeferre went over to him. Cosette still held onto his arm, giddy in her excitement as her father rifled through the box.

“Are you okay?” Combeferre asked quietly.

“I have a _cousin_ and an _uncle_ and _parents_.”

Combeferre smiled and squeezed his hand before stepping back to let Feuilly’s _Uncle_ show him some more pictures. “You’ve never shown me these.” Cosette told her father, her voice carefully level but with the bitter hint of an old argument slipping in.

“It’s complicated.” Her father told her quietly and Cosette frowned, curious. She rifled through the box as her father sighed, “This was taken right after you were born.”

Joly leaned on the table, squeezed in under Coufeyrac’s arm. “I’m actually shocked he’s not actually Enjolras’ imaginary friend come to life.”

“Verdict’s still out on Grantaire, though.” Bossuet added and Grantaire turned to glare at him, almost a mirror of the weightless glare Enjolras had sent him a moment before.

“Literally, you’ve called my parents Mom and Dad since you were six, Bossuet.”

“I was so confident I had gotten you the _best_ gift this year but then sleeper cell Cosette’s dad comes in and gives him a fucking family.” Courfeyrac sighed, the shock of the moment subsiding. 

Feuilly laughed and glanced up to Courfeyrac, “It’s not like I’m going to refuse what you got me, if you got what I think you did.”

“No Joly got you what you think I did, I got you something better.”

“Asshole.” Joly hissed and Feuilly laughed. After a moment, his laughter broke off and went quiet, his lips pressed together, his eyes shiny, momentarily overwhelmed by being surrounded by the _entirety_ of his family. Not even five hours ago, he and Enjolras were talking about Enjolras losing his parents and now Feuilly held his in his hands. He glanced up to Enjolras, worried about how hard this might be for him, but Enjolras was smiling brilliantly at him. 

The others were all looking through pictures, Feuilly had yet to let go of the family photo he had first been handed, him, his parents and uncle, much younger. He didn't know what he was more excited for, seeing the pictures himself or watching his friends see them. Joly and Coufeyrac were cooing over a tiny square picture, Combeferre was listening to M. Fauchelevent explain the picture he held in his hand. Jehan, now munching on a green bean, pointed to a picture and then both he and Cosette looked up to Feuilly and laughed before looking back down. 

He sighed, content, and leaned back in the chair, his parents solid and real in his hands. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yo there was totally a gun and other illegal shit in that box Valjean had Marius go into. Look at how much he trusts him~
> 
> Also, after dinner, someone notices that the name Valjean is written on the back of one of the photos and after an intense internal debate, Valjean explains to his daughter's friends how he's technically living under a false name because he's kinda sorta still wanted by the police. Cosette is positively outraged he kept this from her and when asked why he's telling them all of this, Valjean tries to say it's ~Christmas spirit~ when really he's just totally and completely overwhelmed by having this living ghost in his living room. Those of Les Amis who haven't already adopted him as an honorary father do so that night. This leads to a highly eventful Father's Day where a bunch of grown men & women get him cards/gifts/dinner.


End file.
